


Four Sisters

by Akallabeth



Category: The Goblin Emperor - Katherine Addison
Genre: Coming of Age, Family, Gen, Illegitimacy, Sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-26
Updated: 2015-08-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 15:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2856461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short scenes from the lives of four (half-)sisters, the unacknowledged daughters of the Great Avar.</p><p>Canon-compliant, to the best of my knowledge and ability.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shaleän

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to Red, who introduced me to Ethuveraz and Barizhan. Merry Christmas.
> 
> This is a work of fanfiction with no infringement intended; character names, countries, etc. belong to Katherine Addison/Sarah Monette, who will hopefully grace us with another novel set in this universe.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the eve of her thirteenth birthday, Shaleän, eldest natural daughter of the Great Avar, comes to terms with her past and future.

Chapter 1: Shaleän

_“Min Zheked?”_

_“That is not my name”_ , Shaleän said quietly.

 _“You are thirteen tomorrow”_ , Min Perenched replied. _“As an almost-adult, it's appropriate to use your surname.”_ The tutor stepped through the doorway into her charge's new room. It was on the second floor, one level below the nursery and the children's rooms.

 _“But it is not”_ , Shaleän persisted. _“It was not my father's name, or my mother's, and it is not mine.”_

_“Merrem Zheked has been a mother to you—”_

_“She is good to me, but she is not my mother.”_

_“Shaleän”_ , she said in warning.

The goblin girl didn't acknowledge. Instead, she threw herself onto the canopy bed.

 _“Why are you here?”_ , her tutor persisted. _“What are you upset about?”_

A long moment passed before the girl spoke. _“I know who my father really is.”_

_“What does that have to do with skipping your lessons?”_

_“Everything!”_ In nearly two years' acquaintance, Tehlu Perenched had rarely heard per pupil speak above a whisper, and never louder than moderate talking voice.

_“Perhaps you should speak to Merrem Zheked, once you've composed yourself. It is not my place--”_

_“It is no one's place! Da says nothing, and 'Ma' says nothing, and everyone else pretends that there is nothing wrong with it, but there is. I have no parents, no place, no name, and no one even cares!”_

_“I am going to finish the children's lesson, now. You will take a moment to compose yourself before joining us.”_

_“So I can go upstairs and have my bastard half-sisters call me by their mother's name because our father does care enough to give me my real one?”_

_“Shaleän! That is enough. I did not teach you that word, and you will not be using it in this house. Not in regards yourself, not in regards your sisters. Do you understand?”_

_“Who cares?”_ the girl threw her arms wide, spilling pillows to the ground. _“We can practice Ethuverazhin all day, address each other as 'Min Sevraseched', but it won't change a thing."_

 _“Sevraseched?”_ the tutor gasped.

 _“As though you had not figured it out! Merrem Zheked calls Da 'Maru' when no one else is around. He sent us here to rot when Princess Thever was born.”_ She made the title sound like a slur.

Tehlu Perenched took a steadying breath. _“That is enough. I am going upstairs to finish the history lessons before luncheon. Min Tarashenka will be here for music lessons at two.”_

She turned on her heels and fairly marched out of the room. Shaleän picked up the remaining pillow and hurled it at the door. She pummeled the mattress a few more times before giving up. This wasn't the room for childish tantrums, even if it was the proximate cause. No, that wasn't fair—it really wasn't the room's fault. It wasn't her foster-mother's fault either. Hesithian Zheked had always been scrupulously nice to her. 

Shaleän was five when she first met Merrem Zheked. She'd been living with her nurse in another city, and saw her father twice a year: once shortly before midwinter, and again in the spring for her birthday. Not long after her fifth birthday, she'd been summoned to see Da. He wasn't as happy as usual and didn't have any toys for her, but there was an extra hug, which just about balanced things out in Shaleän's childish opinion. Instead of returning with Nurse, Da said that she should go with Merrem Zheked (who'd made some of sort grown-up joke at her own name), and to be a good older sister.

Four days in a carriage with Merrem Zheked and her maid, Varvarian, had brought Shaleän to the gray house by the sea. It sat on the bluffs just south of the port town of Monoro, where the Great River (called Istandaäratha by the elves) met the Chadevan Sea. In the house were Elso the cook, another nurse, and the baby Ursu. Razho joined them soon after, replacing the wetnurse when Ursu was weaned. A year later there was another baby sister—Holitho--and of course a new wet nurse, though Razho stayed on taking care of the older children. Nadeian was the baby in the nursery now, though at three years old, she'd be moving into a proper bedroom soon. Specifically, she'd be moving into Shaleän's room, the one that had been painted blue just for her, next to the yellow room that Ursu and Holitho now shared. Maybe there'd be a new baby in the nursery now that Nadien no longer needed it...or maybe not. 

Shaleän liked to think that she'd fulfilled Da's request. She played with Nadeian, helped Holitho with her Ethuverazhin pronunciations, braided Ursu's hair with ribbons, and told stories when Razho had reach her wits end keeping up with three rambunctious little girls.

But she couldn't do that forever. Take lessons from Min Peresched (or her predecessor, Min Kalenka). Learn to dance and play the harp with Min Terenka. Mind the youngsters with Razho. Watch Elso cook while pestering her with questions. 

A child did those things. What does a young woman do? Learn a trade—Shaleän didn't see that going over well with her foster-mother. Little as she knew of the world, Shaleän recognized their retired gentility for what it was. Merrem Zheked would expect her to continue her education, become an accomplished young woman with all the graces of society (thank all the gods and goddesses that they were goblins and not elves!), and then do what noblewomen did when they grew up.

Nine times or more out of ten, they got married, so Shaleän figured that Merrem Zheked hadn't thought this plan through very well. She had no name—no family connections that could be admitted. There was probably money around somewhere, but even with a generous dowry (more likely a curse than a blessing, if the novels-which-Shaleän-did-not-read were anything to go by) one must go into society to meet potential spouses, and nothing about their quiet, almost furtive life so much as resembled 'society'. 

Not that Shaleän wanted to get married.

She didn't particularly want to join a convent either, which seemed to be the other option available to gentlewoman. Lighthouses were nice enough, she supposed—especially if you could climb them and feel the wind in your hair, and look out over the sea—but really, being a nun sounded a lot like living here with her half-sisters, except that nuns probably had fewer chances to sneak pastries from the kitchen, and couldn't wheedle their tutors into telling pirate stories. [Min Pereched was more fun than Min Kalenka had been, in that Min Pereched's father was a ship captain, and so she knew fun stories about faraway lands, and pirates, and great storms at sea.]

Shaleän supposed that she'd been unfair to Min Pereched. It wasn't the tutor's fault that Shaleän was the unacknowledged, eldest natural daughter of Maru Sevrasched, Great Avar of Barizhan. It also wasn't her fault that this meant Shaleän really didn't fit in anywhere. Even in the gray house, the other children were connected by age and their shared mother. They had her charcoal skin and lighter eyes—various hues of oranges and yellows. Shaleän supposed she could be considered lucky in taking after her father, tall with a true goblin-black complexion. Her eyes were as brilliant as Da's, but red instead of orange (it was little Holitho who had Da's eyes, the brightest of orange, which almost balanced out her blanched grey skin—Ursu used to tease her for being an elf-changling, until Shaleän pointed out that elves had blue or green eyes, which caused them all to laugh).

Sitting up, she looked out the window—it wasn't her window, not really—to the sea, and the port. Min Pereched's stories. Pirates. Ships.

Had Da sent them here so no one would notice that he as never around? Lots of men worked on ships, away for months at a time. Mer Pereched, for instance, wasn't expected back until the autumn equinox.

It must be nice, out there on the sea: leaving home, seeing the world, having something to do..

Min Pereched had a brother her age—Sasha? Stana?, something like that. He was away at sea, too. If Shaleän was a boy, she could go away like him: join a ship, sail to different lands, make a life of her own. By Ashevezhkho of the Deeps, if she was a boy, she wouldn't have to go away. Even an illegitimate son of the Great Avar would be given something to do—a military commission, maybe, or a position in the diplomatic corps.

She wasn't a boy, though.

But perhaps... 

Shaleän squared her shoulders. She couldn't do anything about her family situation, but she certainly could do something about her own future.

She returned to schoolroom, and was a model pupil for the rest of the afternoon: practicing formal Ethuverazhin script with Min Pereched, playing the harp for Min Terenka, and helping Holitho to learn the main rivers of Barizhan and Ethuveraz. 

Min Pereched didn't say anything to Shaleän about her earlier outburst, but word must have come to Hesithian. After dinner, when Razho had taken the younger children back upstairs, Merrem Zheked held Shaleän back. There was some polite small talk about her lessons, the new room, what she wanted to eat tomorrow on her thirteenth birthday. 

“I know it isn't easy living outside of society as we do. For you, who didn't have any choice in the matter...” Hesithian sighed. “It won't do for me to apologize for your parents. They made their decisions, but please accept my assurances that they only ever wanted you happy.”

“How do you know?” Say it deferentially enough, and it's not back-talk. Really.

Hesithian looked so pityingly on her, that Shaleän wished she hadn't been quite so nice. 

“It's true that I didn't know your mother. She died before my time—when you were less than a year old, as I understand. She'd been cast off by her family before you were born, and that is why I can't give you her name for your own.” Yes, Min Pereched had definitely said something; this was no coincidental coming-of-age talk. 

“I do know that her first name was Yllano, or at least that's how your father called her. You have, I understand, already figured out his story. When you joined this household, I made a number of promises to him and to various governing entities about what would and would not be discussed. There are certain ministers who think it necessary for the stability of Barizhan that the Great Avar acknowledge no natural children. Or their mothers.” Perhaps Merrem Zheked did understand how Shaleän felt.

No, she didn't. She was an adult and knew the whole story and had chosen this. She had a name. She had family. 

“I gave you my surname, as it was the only one I had to offer...” Shaleän stopped listening around this time. There was a bit more about how difficult growing up can be, and about being there if Shaleän needed to talk about anything.

Retiring to her room for the last time, Shaleän worked on her plan. The first step was to see if she could pass for a boy. Barizheise children tended to wear similar tunics and hose regardless of sex, so the real problem would be looking old enough to join up—her most adult clothing was unfortunately also the most feminine. At least she had proper earrings to wear; that would help. And young men were wearing their hair long this year—or so she'd overheard Elso and Varvarian say, when they were gossiping about the grocer's boy. 

Getting out of the house was even easier: she'd been climbing the trellises and rain spouts for years (since she was eight it was the only offense for which she'd been punished). Then across the cul-de-sac to High Street, and down the bluffs into the working port of Monoro.

She didn't try for a berth that first night, but only scouted out the wharf-side haunts of the seamen. Shaleän observed the urchins, attempting to learn their cant and mannerisms, eventually working up the confidence to ask a barefoot boy where one might find a recruiting ship's mate.

The boy laughed at her 'posh' manners and made several crude suggestions, particularly in regards her family. 

He didn't identify her as a girl, however.

The next try got Shaleän the name of a tavern and a boarding house, both of which were informal recruiting grounds.

Satisfied with her progress, and not a small bit elated, Shaleän crept home at one bell past midnight.  
The next day was her thirteenth birthday, in honor of which Min Pereched excused her from lessons. Instead, Hesithian and Varvarian helped move her possessions into the second-floor room. The maid styled her past-the-shoulder hair into a more grown-up set of braids, and Hesithian presented her with a lovely silk gown, embroidered at the neck and cuffs. There was also a short note from Da (he never signed his full name, just 'Da'), accompanying a beautiful pearl necklace.

For lunch, all of the sisters ate with Hesithian and Min Pereched in the dining room (not in the nursery or schoolroom, as was their custom). Holitho and Ursu presented their eldest sister with a wreath of flowers to wear. Ursu copied out some of favorite poems as a gift. Holitho had stitched a little purse, like small ditty bag, with a painstakingly embroidered 'S' on it. Little Nadeian drew a picture of the characters from her favorite of Shaleän's stories: a beautiful countess and her faithful companion, a dragon which flew faster than the wind and shown as brilliant as the sun.

“I'm glad your birthday was on a third-day”, Holitho confessed to Shaleän, as they left lunch, “I don't need as much help when Min Pereched lets us speak Barizhin.”

“By the time you're thirteen, you'll speak Ethuverazhin even better than I do”, Shaleän informed her. “I didn't even start learning it until I was seven.”

Holitho's ears twitched and her eyes grew wide at the idea that her clever old sister had known less at six than she herself did.

“I know you'll be good at it”, Shaleän whispered, “so be sure to help Nadeian just as I help you and Ursu.”

Speechless, the youngster only nodded. A moment later, she was whisked back upstairs by Min Pereched.

With the afternoon free, Shaleän wasted some time organizing the new room. It was just as well she'd hidden away her 'boy costume' with the old clothes that Nadeian used to play dress-up (and secured a useful sort of cap in the process): many of her tunics and other childish garments did not accompany her downstairs, and were instead put aside for Ursu. With her new room, adult garments, and fancy braids, any observer would have taken for a Shaleän proper young almost-woman. 

The thought unsettled her, so she abandoned the new room and snuck down to the kitchen, where Elso was busy preparing a nice dinner for her birthday party.

And it was a party it was—at least a small one. Besides Hesithian and her daughters (and Razho, who always accompanied Nadeian), both tutors were there, and their neighbor Merrim Dorsted with her daughter and son, and Min Pereched's mother and youngest brother. After dinner they had a small version of a children's ball: Min Terenka playing music for the six children to dance, while their mothers looked on (Razho took Nadeian back to the nursery, for she was too young to participate). With four girls and two boys, one of the girls took the opposite part each time.

By eight bells past noon, the little party had dispersed. At ten, with the household retired to their separate chambers and mostly abed, Shaleän changed her clothes and crept out once again. She didn't make any contact that night, but not for want of asking. She tried again the next, and then the one after that. This ship was laying over for repairs, that one has no need of an untrained boy, the other one might have a space—but no, it'd been filled.

A full fortnight after her initial foray into the Dockside district, Shaleän had some luck. The boardinghouse keeper at The Sign of the Pearl had tipped her off that the _Orange Maiden_ was preparing to ship out, and that it's quartermaster, Peretu (a sometimes lodger), was signing on hands down at the tavern called Chadevan's Revenge. 

Shaleän found the bar easily enough and pushed her way in. The interior was dark and smoky, the crowd boisterous. Peretu was a man of middle years, with charcoal gray skin like Nadeian, but green eyes which betrayed his elfish origins.

“What're you doing here, _michen_?”

“Looking for a berth.”

“No kids.”

“I'm thirteen.” There were certain rules to the game, Shaleän had observed. Job-hunting in Dockside had closely choreographed steps—a dance with no music and judicious curse words. Step one was to persevere in the face of dismissal and/or offense.

“Go back to your Ma, she's worried about you—if she's sober enough to notice you're gone.”

“She's dead.” Shaleän looked the man straight in the eye, forcing her voice to stay steady and audible. “And Da was never around anyway, so I need a berth. They say you're hiring.”

The sailor's glare softened for just a moment.

“Awfully scrawny for thirteen.”

“I'm stronger than I look.”

“Ever worked on a ship?”

“No, but I learn fast.”

“Can you swim?”

“Yes.” Every child in Monoro knew how to swim, even the reclusive royal bastards.

“Scared of heights?”

“No. I climb well.”

“What's your name?”

“Shalu Seched.”

“Well, Mer Seched, we leave for Lalunee-Over-the-Sea at dawn on sixth-day. Report to the _Orange Maiden_ no later than noon on the fifth.” 

“Aye, sir.”

With two nights left in Monoro and the gray house of her childhood, Shaleän wasted no time. She kept on her best behavior with the staff and Hesithian, deferred to her tutors, and spent every spare moment with her sisters. Nadeian wanted to hear dragon stories and so, on her last night, Shaleän spent two whole hours devising an epic story about how the Kragaru the Glorious and Countess Dever saved all of Barizhan from a terrible elf-mage, and rescued the Great Avar and both princesses, who rewarded them with a great party and the largest cake that had ever been seen. She'd even filched a pair of tea-cakes from Elso for the occasion, so the Great Avar's oldest and youngest daughters spent their last evening together eating pastry in an attic and imagining elaborate furnishings for his palace and beautiful dresses for their unknown half-sisters. 

When Nadeian went to sleep, Shaleän joined Ursu and Holitho, who were playing at marbles instead of reading their Barizheise history. 

“Should you be downstairs doing grown-up things?” Ursu teased, when Shaleän settled behind her with a hair brush.

“That's for after you children go to bed. Us grown-ups get to stay up late.”

“Will you braid mine next?”

“Certainly.”

“I wish we all shared a room downstairs”, Holitho said. “We'd have matching beds with the pretty drapes like yours, and you could braid our hair every night.”

“We won't be downstairs for years yet”, Ursu complained. “By time I get my own room, you'll be all grown up and going to balls every night.”

“Adults don't go to balls every night”, Shaleän explained. “Do you think Min Pereched does?”

“She could.”

“Or your mother?”

“You won't be that old”, Ursu giggled. 

When Razho came to put the children to bed, Shaleän made a point of mentioning the 'headache' she felt coming on. 

Ursu caught her elder sister's eye and smiled. Shaleän crossed the room to give her a hug, whispering her ear _'I'll explain later. Help?'_

 _'Alright.'_ She made a gallant attempt to not giggle.

Holitho's orange eyes grew wide. She was started to understand Ethuverzahin better, Shaleän was pleased to note. While Razho gathered up the girls' laundry, Shaleän gave Holitho a hug as well, sliding the new pearl necklace into her little sister's hand. _“Hold onto this for me. For good luck.”_ Pearls being sacred to Ashevezhkho, they were considered especially lucky for sailors, unmarried women, travellers and those who lived by the sea. 

Back in her own (new) room, Shaleän made her preparations. She put her birthday poems and drawing into the little ditty bag, along with her slide rule, and the small sextant Da had given her for her tenth birthday. She changed her earrings to the plain gold hoops Hesithian had given her for her eighth birthday, and gathered the remaining pieces of her jewelry together: one pair pearl earrings, one of fancifully worked gold (but still small enough to suit a child), one pair of decorative combs made of carved bone, and one small gold charm bearing Achevezhhko's sigil. Into the plain cloth bag meant for her laundry, she gathered the two least feminine tunics that had been saved, and a pair of leggings. Some undergarments, her two most promising books (a favorite history, and the most advanced mathematics book she had), and a half-dozen lemons stolen from the kitchen. Last of all, she cut her hair into the rough, chin-length bob that was popular among Dockside urchins. 

At three bells past midnight, Shaleän woke, changed into her disguise, and left the house one last time. She loitered in Dockside until the shops began to open, then pawned her earrings and combs. With the money, she finished her kit, adding a warm blanket, sturdy boots, and a waterproof coat (all second-hand). 

At nine bells past midnight, Min Pereched noted her oldest pupil's absence in the schoolroom, and was told by Ursu that her sister had gone to bed with a headache the night before.

At ten bells, Shaleän boarded the _Orange Maiden_ , and formally signed on as Junior Cabin Boy Shalu Seched.

At ten bells and a quarter, Hesithian Zheked knocked on her foster daughter's door to inquire after her health and bring her some breakfast.


	2. Ursu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years after her elder sister leaves, Ursu is on her own path towards adulthood.

In the lowest drawer of her dressing table, Ursu kept a pasteboard box tied with a ribbon. She didn't have an extensive correspondence at the age of fifteen, but the box was nonetheless crammed with letters. The postmarks crisscrossed the Chaldevan Sea: Lalunee-Over-the-Sea, Haveret, Isthered, Solunee-Over-the-Sea. 

_My Dear Ursu,_

_Thank you for the birthday note. We are docked in Solunee this fortnight, filling out the roster. Catha says I'm progressing well as second navigator; by next season I expect to make sailing master in my own right._

_I am glad to hear of Min Peresched's impending nuptials. Please give her my congratulations; I will be sending a more concrete example of my esteem by the next post, but doubt that it will arrive before the ceremony. Do you know whether the new Merrem Clavred will be making her home in Monoro, or does she mean to set up house closer to the University?_

_In regards your less-than-politic queries, I have been keeping company with a number of young men—72 as of this morning, ideally 84 before we ship out. Admittedly, “young” may not apply in all cases... You can stop making that face. I did recently meet someone, but it's too soon to say anything concrete._

_I'll write a longer letter for Holitho's birthday next month; it's not everyday that one turns thirteen, after all. I know you're anxious about her interest in taking vows. Without breaking confidence, I can say that this is not a sudden decision, nor a definite one. Please reassure your mother on that score. Even at this distance, the tension in the household is rather obvious. Extra hugs to Nadeian, now that she's alone upstairs. You did show her the cubby-hole under the eaves, I trust? Whether those novels are still stored there, I will not inquire. On a completely unrelated note, do you need more texts in Southrhin, for practice? Address your next letter care of the_ Soleil Couchant _, Lalunee-Over-the-Sea; we should be there around mid-summer. Give my kind regards to your mother, and to the rest._

_Your loving S._

“Ursu, are you ready?”

“Yes, Ma.” She folded the letter and tucked it away with the others. A hired carriage waited outside to take Merrem Zheked and her three daughters to the Sanctuary of Achevezhhko. After the ceremony, there would be dinner at the Peresched's house, with dancing to follow. Although they were not yet of age, Hesithian had agreed that her older daughters might stay for the first two sets—the Perescheds being old family friends, after all. Nadeian was not pleased a the prospect of being left out of the dancing; she had, however, been somewhat mollified at being asked to carry the bride's train. 

Arriving at the Peresched's house that afternoon, Ursu was nearly overwhelmed at the number of well-wishers. There must have been several dozen. Doors were opened throughout the ground floor, combining the dining room, two parlors, library and music room into a largely-continuous space for dancing and conversation. Candles burned in every window to announce the happy event, and iridescent shells were hung over each door. 

In observance of custom, Hesithian first led her bewildered daughters to pay their respects to the newlyweds. The traditional blue garments made it easy to locate the happy couple, despite the crowd. Ursu almost didn't have recognized her tutor of nine years—no inkstains, severe braids and plain gown replaced by bridal finery. Only her smile was the same, lighting now over a new husband and well-meaning friends as it often had over a tricky mathematical proof, or an insightful response from her pupils.

“Congratulations. May the Gods grant you a happy future together.” Hesithian shook hands with both bride and groom.

“It is good of you to come, Mistress Zheked.” Tehlu's new husband was a slender man with eyeglasses. Ursu imagined that he too was usually covered in ink spots.

“You have been a second mother to me. I shall miss you and your daughters.”

 _“It_ is _fifth day.”_

“Nadeian”, Ursu hushed her little sister, but the breach of etiquette just caused all three adults to laugh aloud.

 _“Yes, how could I have forgotten?”_ , the former tutor smiled fondly at her youngest pupil. _“It was good you to remind me, Nadeian.”_

 _“Indeed, I understand you are quite the scholar,”_ her husband added.

 _“We speak Ethuverazhin every odd-numbered day”,_ Nadeian stated. _“And Min Peresched—sorry, Merrem Clavred—did not make an exception for today.”_

 _“Then we shall speak in Ethuverazhin”,_ Mer Clavred agreed, seriously. _“Though I fear not all of our guests are conversant in the tongue.”_

_“It was most remiss of me not to make the exception. You have permission to speak in Barizhin today, young ladies. But did you not remember your manners--about using languages everyone can understand?”_

_“I did!”_ , Nadeian insisted. _“You, Ma and my sisters all do. Mer Clavred is a university teacher, and university teachers must know Ethuverazhin, Barizhin, and Southrhin.”_

 _“I shall warn the Law and Logic teachers to look for you, michen.”_ Mer Clavred seemed quite amused. _“Your daughter would certainly grace the University, Merrem Zheked.”_

_“She has benefited from a most careful tutor.”_

_”We will miss you,”_ Holitho added abruptly to Merrem Clavred. _“You will come back to see us?”_

 _“When we can”,_ she promised. _“And I hope you will write to me.”_

The girl nodded vigorously. Ursu thought she saw a tear on her sister's cheek. 

And now it was her turn. 

_“Congratulations, Mer and Merrem Clavred. I wish you great happiness—and all the books you desire.”_ There, that got a smile for her, too. 

At dinner, Ursu and her sisters found themselves are a table of young adults and older children—cousins and neighbors of the Perescheds, for the most part. Mer Clavred, it appeared, had few relatives; most of his guests were fellows from the University, who were intermixed with the elder Peresched friends and relatives. 

“Sorcho, Miss?” A familiar-looking young man offered Ursu the small teapot-shaped vessel from which the rice wine was traditionally served. 

“No, my mother does not permit me.” 

“My apologies”, he said. “I did not realize—Ursu Zheked?” 

“Yes. How do you know my name?” 

“You told it to me—when we were learning how to dance in your mother's parlor. I'm Geru Peresched.” 

Ursu looked carefully at her neighbor. He certainly could be her tutor's younger brother—there was a resemblance about the nose and cheekbones. But she just couldn't reconcile the young man beside her with the weedy boy who used to stare at his shoes (and still somehow managed to step on her feet). Ursu then realized that she was staring and pointedly inspected her plate instead. 

“You're taller than I remember,” she said. 

“It's been an eventful, what, six years?” 

“Yes, I believe so. You went to Ethuveraz, I understand.” 

“Only for the first two. I was apprenticed to one of Da's trading partners on the inland route, but Sasha finally convinced him that he wasn't suited to be a sailor, so we exchanged places.” 

“And now you sail the _Breath of Achevezhkho_.” 

“There are a _few_ others involved. Riggers, carpenters, navigators...” 

“My elder sister's qualifying as a sailing master, and _your_ older sister taught me from the age of six. I do know something about the roles on a ship." 

“Then you'll appreciate that I'm the most important person on board.” 

“You're the cook?” She'd heard a few stories about sailors and food. 

“Acting cook, for the season. Before that, I worked on the rigging. What about you? What do you do these days?” 

“Only my hair and my lessons”, Ursu replied. “But I come of age next winter, so that may change.” 

“How so?” 

“Anything could happen. I could become a tutor to some spoiled Sea Captain's daughter. I could go to the University to improve my languages. I could apprentice myself to a clock-maker. I could get married.” 

“Do you have anyone in mind?” 

“What business is that of yours?” 

_“Only that the dancing starts soon, and I would like to ask you, if you do not have alternate plans.”_

_“If you were trying to be secretive, you should know that many persons here speak Ethuverazhin, including my sisters._ **Southrhin is less likely to be understood** ,” she explained. 

He smiled back, all traces of cockiness replaced with something closer to awe. **“May I make that 'the first two dances'?”**

**“The second is contingent on your performance in the first. Step on my toes at your own risk.”**

**  
 _Dear Shaleän,_

_Congratulations on your new rank! I'm sure you'll have found a new berth before you get this (Sailing Masters being very important and all), so you must write me in great detail about the new ship and everyone on it. I'll be sorry not to hear any more stories about Catha's weather-predicting injuries, or the continuing, star-crossed romance of T. and G. Before you leave, I think you should write G. a very clear and explicit note detailing T.'s actual intentions, and explaining the situation behind the jelly fish incident. Perhaps diagrams would be useful?. Anyway, be sure that your new shipmates are equally interesting. And I'm sorry also that things didn't work out with 'someone'. If I'm wrong, do correct the deficiency in my information as soon as possible._

_Our dear Merrem Clavred has been very good about writing to us. She seems thrilled with the University, and is making good use of it, however unofficial her role may be. The mathematics fellows are all going to either love or hate her. No news yet on whether we have a 'niece' on the way—or a 'nephew' for that matter. Holitho has staked her green ribbons (against my rosewood pen and Nadeian's best handkerchief) on a baby between the spring solstice and midsummer. Nadeian has midwinter to spring solstice, and I'm for midsummer to autumn solstice. You're welcome to take next autumn solstice to Midwinter. Just don't tell Min Lenska—she's awfully strict, and not nearly as much fun as Min Peresched._

_Speaking of the Perescheds, the _Breath of Achevezhkho_ is in port all winter. The elder Mer Peresched is still captain. His second son, Geru, has been coming to see us and keep us apprised of the family news. The older son, Sasha, has been in Ethuveraz these several years and sends very interesting letters which Geru shares with us. If you want your letters read aloud, I'm afraid that you'll need to write more generally about the lands and peoples you see, and offer less sage advice to those of us back in Monoro (and fewer compromising tales of your messmates). On further reflection, I prefer not reading your letters aloud. Please keep them as they are, just longer. _

Ma and Holitho are still at odds over her vocation. Acolytes are permitted as young as thirteen, and she is interested in trying it out to ascertain if that is really her 'calling'. Ma is determined to keep her home as long as possible. You know what those two are like. It isn't a fight, but it is as pronounced a 'difference of opinion' as you are like to see between one eternally hopeful person and one entirely self-abnegating one. 

_Nadeian makes progress with her studies. She's much like I was... which should tell you everything you need to know. Holitho is like you, only she's grown quite sincere in her good behavior. Then again, maybe she's just better at hiding it and will surprise us all by running away to join the opera. I, of course, remain a completely respectable young woman, who happens to be growing quite proficient in Southrhin._

_Your loving sister, Ursu Zheked_

On the reverse of the envelope: 

_S.- U. let us take the post down today. We love you and hope you're well. -H._

_G. P. is very obviously courting U. If she gave you details, please forward. She tells us nothing! Also, I'd like another dragon story when it's my turn for a letter. I've finished the illustrations for 'The Voice On the Wind'.-N. _


	3. Holitho

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With her sixteenth birthday approaching, Holitho considers her vocation. Set three years after Ursu's story.

The pearls slipped through Holitho's fingers as she whispered: "Achevezhkho of the Deeps, grant aid to sailors in need; Achevezhkho of the Waves, watch over those who travel by water and by road; Achevezhkho of the Shore, have compassion for those who wait behind; Achevezhkho the Maiden, protect my sisters..."

Most Barizheise brides wouldn't specifically seek the blessing of Achevezhkho, as marriage wasn't one of the Goddess's particular concerns. Sailors' wives were the principal exception, of course, and in port towns like Monoro, even those on land looked to the Sea Goddess as a sort of patron. Thus, Holitho found it perfectly orthodox to commend her second sister into the Goddess's care. She already prayed for Shaleän regularly--who, by all counts, ought to have been especially close to Achevezhkho.

Hopefully, would be more evident in Ursu's case than in Shaleän's.

Banishing the thought, Holitho resumed her chanting, fingers sliding over one pearl with each invocation. A necklace is not a conventional meditation device, but her mentors allowed it as sufficiently pious in intent—not that Holitho had exactly been thinking along theological lines when she adopted it. Rather, at age six, it had seemed perfectly natural: holding on to her sister's last gift reminded her of Shaleän, and thinking of her sister—out in the wide world, on the waters and in Achevezhkho's care—it seemed equally natural to pray. A habit developed.

When she was eleven, Holitho realized that she might have a vocation. Meditation had always relaxed her; it'd been a comforting ritual when she grew scared, or worried, or even just lonely. But Achevezhkho is not a goddess of comforting thoughts—she offers aid where she will, and demands action of her devotees. Pray if you like; work if you mean it. 

And Holitho knew just what work she needed to do.

At Urvekh, the currents and rocks have troubled sailors at least since words were written, and likely for far longer. The name alone is among the strongest of sailors' oaths (which says something), and its shoreline has inspired so many depictions of “The River of Tears” that schoolchildren become confused when taught that Urvekh is not, in fact, a river. Undesirable as it is to navigate, the straits of Urvekh connect the Vekhzhan Gulf to the Chadevan Sea, making it a necessary component of several major trade routes.

Holitho could only pray for loved ones on those waters for so long before Achevezhkho suggested a more concrete form of devotion— to do the work of the Goddess, and not merely to ask for it.

Ma was not enthusiastic about this plan. Since loosing Shaleän so abruptly, she'd seemed to fear distance and separation. She'd traveled to Court more often (up to six times in one year), but stayed for shorter durations; it was as though she couldn't bear to be away from anyone, and thus flitted back and forth as though she could be in two places at once.

Holitho sympathized. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel a connection to her missing sister, strengthened by the intervention of their patron Goddess. She'd even written to Shaleän about it—discussing her vocation and her doubts long before anyone else had even a suspicion. When the letters stopped suddenly, it was like losing her eldest sister all over again. Holitho didn't want to hurt anyone like that—but Ma still had Nadeian at home, and Ursu would be nearby, and they had her and each other. Shaleän was out there somewhere (they hoped) and Geru would always try to come back, and Holitho could do something for them—for her family, and her family's family, and for all the other travellers crossing the straight in Achevezhkho's hands.

**

Nadeian would move into Ursu's—and Shaleän's—old bedroom right after the midwinter wedding. She'd been thirteen for almost half a year, but the right combination of charm and tears and Ma's sentimental frame of mind allowed her to stay upstairs until that particular room was free. The winter brought other changes to the household: Ursu was moving out, obviously; with her last charge grown up, Razho, the nurse, had retired after 17 years of service; Varvarian's niece, Chelver, had moved in and taken over most of the household chores; and Ma had started lighting death-candles for Shaleän, at the traditional three seasons since they'd lost contact. The last missive, received a fortnight past the spring equinox, offered congratulations on Ursu's engagement, and came tucked in a package containing fine blue cloth for wedding garments. _“I'll be home at least one week before the Solstice” it read. “My old mate Verkhar is captain of the_ Diluvian _and has promised me passage to Monoro when they put in for repairs next winter. I'm sending the enclosed ahead, so there's plenty of time for making it up, knowing that Ursu has too much taste to trust mine. Love to you all, S._

The first missing letter, breaking a nine-year pattern of monthly correspondence, was due for Holitho's birthday. She had tried not to be hurt by the omission, imagining that her letter had been mislaid in transit, or accidentally lost. Then it was Midsummer, and no letter came. Nadeian's birthday passed in silence; the season changed. By the autumnal equinox, even Ma had run out of hopeful ideas which placed Shaleän in safe prosperity, thinking of her family and somehow unable to communicate. Mer Pereched had inquired among his contacts, but there was no word of the _Southern Dreamer_ since its departure for the Versheleen Isles the previous spring; the landlady of the _Soleil Couchant_ continued storing “S. Seched's” mail, but hadn't seen her sometimes-boarder. Sheleän's former mates on the _Orange Maiden_ and _Lively Kraken_ had heard nothing.

Ursu's eigthteenth birthday, at the start of winter, brought good and bad: her fiancé and something akin to news.

Khel-Avezher, the Chadevan Pirate King, had been active in the islands last spring. Rumor in Solunee, Geru Pereched reported, placed the _Southern Dreamer_ among the pirate fleet's victims.

**  
Ursu's solstice wedding was celebrated more soberly than most such occassions among the ship-owning class of Monoro. The Zheked and Pereched families gathered at Achevezhkho's Sanctuary, where the Goddess's blessing was invoked. Nadeian carried Ursu's train, assisted by Sasha's daughter, Corivero—a precocious four-year-old, who was rather pretty despite her elfin green eyes.

Leaving the Sanctuary, crewmembers from the _Breath of Achevezhkho_ sprinkled the newlyweds with salt water rather than drenching them (or, as at the memorable Lenska-Verened wedding two summers past, throwing both bride and groom into the sea). Back at the Zheked residence, the customary candles and shells informed passersby of the happy event; representatives of the major shipping firms paid their respects, along with Geru's present and past messmates, Ursu's former tutors, and other acquaintances, relatives, and servants of both families. Dinner was served to a small party of close friends and relatives, and the dancing ended relatively early.

Da had sent a two-seat carriage and pair of horses as a wedding present; per tradition, when the newlyweds tried to leave their party, the animals were missing. In this case, however, they were ransomed back without gangs of sailors pulling the the young couple's vehicle all around the mercantile districts. 

With the guests dispersed and the family retired, Holitho wandered through the quiet house. She removed one of the colorful shells from the front door, picked up a mostly-burned wedding taper from the parlor window, and carried them to the music room. The great harp stood again in its place, covered against dust; a single, black-banded candle burned in the niche next to the window seat. Holitho lay the shell on the little shelf, and lit the stub from its fellow. 

“I know you were with us today. Wherever you are otherwise, I know that today, you were here.”

Talking to the dead wasn't normal in Barizheise meditation—Mother Lenzevo had warned against superstitious practices—but Holitho didn't care. This was between her, her sister, and their Goddess.

“I've decided what to do. When you last wrote, you advised me to bring Ma around gently if I could, but that ultimately, I'm responsible only to myself and to the gods. I've thought a great deal since then; I didn't want to hurt Ma, and so I stayed quiet. I saw how it grieved her and Ursu and Nadeian to lose you, and I told myself that I couldn't do that to them again.”

“But that's not the whole of it, is it? There are others who journey by land and sea—other families who weep and pray when the letters stop and the rumors multiply. Even if I'm selfish enough to put our family's pain above theirs, I still I can't spare anyone from it by staying here. Ursu's new husband sails, too; Min Lenska's brother is a ship captain; Merrem Dorsted's boy, Maris, travels abroad in the spice trade. Even if I stay here and never cause Ma a moment's pain, it can still find her—and while I linger it will come to other families who might have been spared their grief.”

“And so I'm going to do it, Shaleän. I swear here and now, in the name of my patron Goddess Achevezhkho, constant yet ever changing, and on the memory of my sister Shaleän Sevraseched, that I will devote myself to the safety of sailors, in the service of Achevezhkho, who may show mercy, but is not merciful. When I have attained sixteen years of age, I will take formal vows to serve the Lady of the Sea and to obey her senior servants, to aid those in distress to the best of my ability, whether by water or land, and to make no future promises which prevent the fulfillment of those to which I have sworn.”

“I couldn't have done this without you, Shal'. Thank you for counseling me through this decision when you could, and for showing me my priorities when you couldn't. If you turn up safe and sound tomorrow—as we'd all prefer—I will fulfill my oath knowing that it helps you and spares others the griefs we've faced. If we never meet again, I will hold onto your memory as I aid those who follow your chosen career.”

The blue and white candle sputtered and went out. Its companion would keep from dusk to dusk.

“I wish I had your strength, sister”, Holitho whispered. “But when I shy and falter, I will think of you and try to be brave. Where ever you are now, remember that we love you. And try to come home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Barizheise names, place-names, and titles are extrapolated from the few examples given in canon; I apologize for any misunderstandings and mistakes which may have crept in. I have the girls addressing their tutors with "Min" as a hold-over from them speaking Ethuverazhin with their tutors--and because I can find no mention of the Barizheise equivalents. The use of first names with and between most other adults is meant to reflect Barizhan's apparently relaxed relationship between classes.
> 
> Italicized dialogue is meant to represent Ethuverazhin; plain text Barizhin.


End file.
